


Insomnia

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: First Times, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 04:06:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair has trouble sleeping, until Jim shows up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Insomnia

**Author's Note:**

> Just to be safe, there is one small reference to drugs, but no use depicted and it's _very_ brief and inoffensive IMO. :-) 
> 
> Comments appreciated, I'm still pretty new to this and a little nervous. ;-)

## Insomnia

by Jazzy

Author's disclaimer: Someone else owns the rights to 'em. Wish they were mine, but I'm just stealing them for my own entertainment. ;-) (shh, don't tell!)

* * *

I don't believe this. 

I mean, I'm on the go for days at a time, catching what could only be called naps in between my work at Rainier, with Jim, and the hundred other things I always seem to have going. You know when you get to that state of exhaustion where you're just _extremely_ wired from the lack of sleep? That's where I feel like I'm at half the time. Now, I've finally got a break, right? Finals are over, I've got the summer semester off, it's been slow at the station, and I've got all night and all day tomorrow to sleep in... right? 

So, of course, I have insomnia. 

Man, this sucks! I've tried making herbal tea, meditating, playing my tribal drum CDs (softly so I wouldn't wake Jim), and yet here I am, twisting and tossing around, trying to find some way to get comfortable and _sleep_. The sheets have long since been kicked off, and my pillow thrown to a corner of the room. In my current state such luxuries feel like more of a hindrance than help in finding that elusive sleep. 

_sigh._

Frustrated, I sit up and decide to try reading or just _doing_ something, and I rummage for a magazine in the pile by my bed. I find what should have been a fascinating article on the Inuit, but before long my mind starts wandering, unable to focus on anything. I grumble to myself and toss the National Geographic aside before flopping in a sprawl back on the bed, arms and legs splayed out. /Sleep, dammit!/ I order myself, squeezing my eyes shut. Maybe if I can trick my body into _thinking_ it's ready to sleep... 

Man, that sounded dumb even to me, but it strikes a funny bone or something, because all of the sudden I'm fighting a bad case of the giggles. I feel _so_ wasted... kinda like I just smoked a joint but forgot about it somehow, because my brain is processing things in the oddest ways, and I have like, a strange floaty but heavy-limbed feeling. But then if I were stoned I'd be relaxed enough to sleep, so that can't be it. Suddenly that whole line of thought strikes me as hilariously absurd, and I'm giggling like a mad scientist again, so much that my ribs hurt and I wrap my arms around them, but the more I try to stop, the worse it gets. 

Apparently all my tossing and turning followed by my little fit of mirth has finally awakened Jim, because as my spluttering chuckles finally die out, I open my eyes to see him standing in the doorway. He's looking at me with this expression like he doesn't know if he should be angry or worried that I'm losing it. And maybe I am losing it, because the sight of a sleep-mussed Jim wearing only boxers is suddenly doing things to me that I don't think it should be. I can't stop myself from checking out his hard, muscled pecs, wishing his arms weren't crossed so I could have an unobstructed view. Of their own will, my eyes continue over his stomach (that man has got _such_ great abs!) and down to his silk boxers, where a slight hard-on is visible. 

Whoa, hold on, that can't be right. Since when does Jim wear _silk_ boxers? And why is he standing in my doorway with a now-growing erection while I just stare at him? 

Suddenly I realize that I _am_ staring, and guiltily yank my eyes back up toward his. But he's not looking at me. Well, he is, but not at my eyes, that's for sure. I follow his gaze and I'm almost surprised to see my erection tenting my own boxers. This time when I look up he does too, and when our eyes meet I suddenly feel like we're totally on the same wavelength. Almost without thinking I reach out a hand, inviting him to join me. 

I've never realized just how fast Jim can move. He's pulling me into one of those great big Jim hugs... you know, strong and secure but gentle and tender? I think of him like a big teddy bear when he holds me like this, not that I think he'd appreciate the analogy. 

He lies down with me slowly; the two of us tangled around each other. We share a long look as he lowers his lips to mine, and then he's kissing me with a tenderness, yet intensity, like I've never experienced before. He's taking it slow, sucking my tongue delicately into his mouth, like he's trying to absorb me. I'm used to being in control of things like this with women, but it feels so wonderful to let him lead, to give him that power, and I'm pressing myself against him so... well, wantonly. I've _definitely_ never been what I'd call wanton before, but this is just, like, _so_ amazing. I mean, Jim Ellison Is In My Bed and He's Kissing Me Like There's No Tomorrow. 

Wow. 

Actually, right now I'm kind of hoping there is no tomorrow, because I _really_ don't want this to end. 

Jim is definitely an oral person. We lay together, only our boxer shorts separating us, sweaty chests pressed skin-to-skin, hands rubbing deliberately over arms, backs, shoulders, thighs, asses... and his mouth never releases mine, bonding us together until I think I'm a part of him, or he is of me. His hand slides up to tangle possessively and firmly in my curls, something I've always secretly loved, and I moan around his tongue, rubbing my groin against his. 

Well, _that_ spurs him into action, all right. His mouth is suddenly pulled from mine, leaving us both gasping for air, and now he's sliding wet lips and tongue down my neck, pausing to nibble and suck, marking me. I arch up to him, wanting more, and he moves down to suck my nipple, tongue teasing the ring poking through it, sending streaks of delight through my body and straight to my straining cock. I writhe on the bed under him, struggling to find something to hold, and finally just grab at his neck and shoulders. Never moving his mouth from that deliciously sweet spot, he reaches down and makes quick work of pushing down his own boxers, then kicking them off. He takes more time with mine, at last releasing the happily swollen and abused nipple to slide his tongue around and below my navel, as he massages his palms maddeningly over my thighs and ass, kneading the muscles there. Finally, he slips the shorts off of me, freeing my leaking hard-on to bounce up at him, begging for his attention. 

Jim's mouth continues devastating me, kissing, licking and biting at my inner thighs and belly. When I feel the hot glide of his breath followed by his tongue up my cock, I jerk upwards involuntarily. He places a hand on my stomach to hold me down, and now he's giving me the blowjob of a lifetime. He teases, licking around the tip, sucking lightly before pulling away as I try to arch into it, his fingertips all the while pushing gently at that sensitive spot behind my balls and grazing across my hole. 

Finally he takes my cock deep in his throat, and I think I'm about to explode when I feel his muscles tighten around the head. I start trying to thrust, reaching for a grip on his head to hold him still, but he fights me, setting his own pace - slow and tortuous. I cry out when he backs off again, but he only moves those wondrous lips to my balls, sucking them lightly as he spreads my legs and pushes my knees up, and one finger slips inside me, slow and easy. 

I'm so close, so close... Jim's reaching over to my nightstand, and I thank whatever gods watch over sexual pleasures that I left a bottle of massage oil there. He slicks his fingers and begins working them into me, and it takes everything I've got to hold back my orgasm. The very thought that this is _Jim_ with his fingers up my ass, nearly pushes me over the edge. When he hits my prostate, I whimper shamelessly and start fucking myself on his fingers, trying to drive them deeper. He obliges me by thrusting, but I'm too close, and I want him in me... I grab at him and yank him up against me. We just look at each other and he knows what I want -- it's so cool, like this connection we have. 

Now he's spreading my legs further, moving between them, and I feel his hard cock pressing into me. God, it's so perfect, like this is what I've been waiting for since I we first met. I feel strangely disconnected, like I'm floating from the sheer pleasure of it, of knowing that this is Jim moving with me, into me. But even my mind can't continue wandering with what Jim's doing to me now, and I'm yanked back to myself as he sinks in fully. 

He's buried deep inside me now, and it's so full, and so hot, and so _right_. He pulls slowly out, all the way to the head, and suddenly slams back in so hard I swear my hair vibrates, and I feel it deep inside. We're both too far gone now for any more care or gentleness. He's fucking me hard and fast now, hitting my prostate with every stroke, and I'm shuddering beneath him as he pounds into me, owning me. His breath comes in harsh pants near my ear as he gropes between us with one hand. He finds my swollen, heavy cock and a few strokes are all I need. My whole body strains and wrenches with the force of my orgasm as I cry out Jim's name and my semen spurts all over both of our chests and bellies. Jim looks right into my eyes as my ass clenches around his cock and with a few more jerking thrusts he's flooding me with his hot come, groaning long and deep as he clutches me to him. 

We stay this way for what seems like long minutes -- wrapped around each other, sharing caresses, Jim still inside me. I'm more relaxed now than I can ever remember being, and I feel myself at last starting to sink into blissful blackness. Jim moves, pulling out of me and getting up, and it takes all of my energy to mumble a pathetic protest and reach for him. 

He leans down and kisses me softly, speaking for the first time -- promising he'll be right back. A moment later he returns with a warm wet washcloth, cleaning me gently with a tenderness that makes my heart clutch at my chest. When he finishes his task he sets the cloth aside and gathers me close. I smile sleepily at him and snuggle up, feeling sated, happy, and loved ...and I drift into sleep. 

Done 


End file.
